"O, Love - bourne ecstasy that is Mrs. Miggins, wilt thou bring me but one cup of the browned juicings of that naughty bean we call 'coffee', 'ere I die... "
- - Shelley
And to that, I can only add that on a day such as this, when the very air becomes a hot plaster wall bashing on my skull, iced coffee is an untrammelled, finger - trembling delight.
